


Bloody Valentine

by N01R



Category: Servamp (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lawlicht If You Squint, No Beta We Die Like Ophelia, Ophelia is only mentioned, Self-Harm, frequently, i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:35:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28928142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N01R/pseuds/N01R
Summary: Her name never remained, it had vanished from everyone else's memory. But not his. Never his. He'd remember her name, face, voice, everything. He'd remember her forever. Even if her name never stayed carved in his skin, it'd stay carved in his mind.
Relationships: Hyde | Lawless & Licht Jekylland Todoroki, Hyde | Lawless & Ophelia
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Bloody Valentine

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it again with Servamp! No archive warning really fit this fic, but please don't skim through the tags for this one, it's tagged mature for a reason! This started out as a vent fic to get out an intrusive thought, and turned into something I'm very happy with, even if I wasn't sure how to end it. I hope you enjoy!

_How many times had he done this now? Carving her name over and over and over into his skin in the hopes that it'd stay there. That it'd scar. That it'd be there forever instead of just disappear. Disappear just like she had. How fitting, he might just laugh if he felt anything at all.  
  
There was no hope, no despair, no sadness, there was simply _nothing _. There was only a numbness that wouldn't go away. It was oddly frequent, the feeling of total and complete numbness to the point where he couldn't even feel his body move, even as he watched it do just that.  
  
He could watch as he killed Eve after Eve, and feel nothing as he snuffed out their life. As all their hopes and dreams became unattainable. His had become unattainable, why shouldn't theirs be too? It wasn't like it mattered anyway. If she didn't matter, nobody else did either.   
  
Her name never remained, it had vanished from everyone else's memory. But not his. Never his. He'd remember her name, face, voice, everything. He'd remember her forever. Even if her name never stayed carved in his skin, it'd stay carved in his mind.  
  
The wounds it inflicted never remained, but the blood did. The blade had carved into so many different parts of his body to the point where you could see the faded stain no matter how much he washed it.  
  
That part was nice, the blade stayed, the blood stayed, the hilt always felt the same in his hand. But the writing never stayed. She didn't stay. No matter how much he hoped, and wished, and begged, it never stayed. She hadn't stayed.  
  
How tragic that was, the one thing he wanted more than anything to stay forever and ever was the only part to vanish. Regeneration had never been such a pain in the ass. Why couldn't he just have this?  
  
This was useless to keep doing, to keep carving, to keep dragging the knife through skin and staining it with even more blood. But he did it. He always did. When everything got to heavy, when the world got to dark, when he couldn't see anything but complete and total pitch black shadow, he'd plunge the knife into his body until the hilt met skin or blade met bone.  
  
She was his light, his everything, his one reason for going on. Just seeing her name, carved deep into his arm, or chest, or leg, or wherever he had picked that time made everything better. The letters seemed to glow and light the dark, only to dim right after when the wounds closed and vanished again. Like it hadn't happened, like she never existed.   
  
He always gave in, always came back, that part stayed the same no matter how many years. He always came back, and she kept not being here to greet him. Or stop him, he should say, if she had any idea what he was doing she'd have stopped it immediately. It wouldn't have become such a habit if she was still here.  
  
But she wasn't. Her name was, bloody and this time carved into his thigh, but she wasn't. She never would be again. Nothing stayed, nothing mattered, nothing lived forever. He did though, he was nothing himself after all. Absolutely nothing without her, and that was simply a fact.  
  
But, for this moment, while the blood still flowed and the letters remained, _Ophelia _was here._  
  
  


**‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☆ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙**

"Oh wow, I haven't seen this old thing in ages!" It had seen better days, that's for sure. He remembers how he took such great care of this one knife, wanted to preserve it forever and ever because of the stained blade, because it was the one thing that she didn't vanish from. Her name always left his body, no matter how many times he carved her name into it, but the stains never left the blade no matter how much he washed it.  
  
"See what?" His new Eve, his _angel_ , is nothing like her. But he counts that as a positive. He hopes beyond anything that he's better now, that if his angel met an unfortunate fate, he could go on.  
  
That he wouldn't carve _Licht_ into his body over and over, hoping and wishing that the cuts would finally stay and scar and be there forever instead of heal and close and vanish like the names owner had. But he's really not sure if he's come that far.  
  
"It's crazy lame, but I used to use this thing all the time back in the day."  
  
"Don't you have a sword?"  
  
"Rapier, but yeah."  
  
"What would you need a knife for?"  
  
"Oh, when I got _reeeaaal_ bad, I used to carve you know whos name into my body. Never worked how I wanted it to, regeneration made sure of that. I was _crazy_ back then, lemme tell ya."  
  
His angel does not laugh at all like he does, does not seem at all happy how he casually brushes off the fact that he used the knife _once_ , let alone _thousands_ of times. He tends to do that quite a lot, he came to realize, joke and laugh and brush it off like it's not important. It was how he coped, acting like it didn't matter. He still does it, even now, except now he has a very blunt angel to tell him that's definitely not healthy.  
  
"Give it."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Hand it over."  
  
"The stains aren't gonna come off y'know, they're apart of its brand now."  
  
"Give me the fucking knife _Hyde_. Now."  
  
He finally complies, dropping his former crutch into his angels out stretched hand. It clatters to the ground right after, and before he can ask what exactly his angel is up to, the knife handle is crushed and it's blade in pieces thanks to one glowing boot.  
  
He pities the knife, now in pieces at his feet. He makes a mental note to ask somebody to clean and vacuum the carpet, stepping on forgotten knife fragments doesn't sound very appealing. He hopes that's a sign he's better and not just common sense.  
  
"I wasn't still doing it, y'know."  
  
"You better not have been."  
  
"I haven't done it once since I met you."  
  
"Good. _Don't_. If I catch you, I'll send you back to hell where you came from."  
  
"Well if you're gonna do that, at least let me pack a bag first!"  
  
"Get back to cleaning Shitty Hedgehog! Enough slacking!"  
  
"All I did was make an offhanded comment, you turned into a whole thing!"


End file.
